


Parasocial

by SkywalkerCrow



Category: Star Wars (Marvel Comics)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Mentions of Slavery, Non-Consensual Touching, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21578848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkywalkerCrow/pseuds/SkywalkerCrow
Summary: Anakin Skywalker learns what it really means to be well known. Darth Vader realizes some things are simply inescapable.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 39





	Parasocial

**Author's Note:**

> A different thing then I’m used to writing.
> 
> The nurse is a cannon character from Star Wars: Dark Visions 3

Anakin Skywalker did not expect he would be as good at battle strategies as he was— he did not expect the result of what becoming the best Jedi General in the Republic would open him up to.

A nickname— _The Hero With No Fear_ the holos called him— a newfound admiration from the other padawans, wholehearted dedication from the clones under his command.

He thought it had finally been a big break for him after everything he’s been through— the ostracization from his padawan peers, being looked down upon from the Jedi masters, a disappointment of an ancient Jedi prophecy— _finally_ , people knew what he was actually capable of and he was getting the respect he deserved. It had taken years, but he had done it. 

This was so new to him— very suddenly he wasn’t this nobody, this less than nobody— the padawan that had been far too old and got angry and emotional far easier than he should have— He was this Jedi Knight General of the Republic. Grand and swift and beloved. 

People loved the idea of this pure fearless Jedi Knight. So much so, that Anakin become the poster boy for the Jedi Knights of the Republic— The face and symbol of the Jedi. 

Not all things that came from this however, were good as he soon learned.

At first Anakin had searched, looked specifically for what people thought of himself. 

Apparently some people said he was a well known General of the Republic simply because of his face. While untrue, that had been taken by others, watching the holos, and for them it _was_ made into the only reason they cared about him. Some people did not care for his revolutionary military tactics, or front line battle abilities, they only cared for how good he looked doing it. 

And as Anakin quickly learned, people he had never met before become intimately jealous of other people when it involved him. 

They said awful crude things about him and Obi-Wan— the man that raised him since he was a child— and about him and any woman he was ever seen standing near even for a fraction of a moment. They argued over intimate details of his life and who would be best suited to be with him in a sexual and romantic sense— _if only Jedi weren’t so pure, but that was a part of the appeal._ They said. 

Anakin stopped looking for things about himself after that. 

However some things he simply couldn’t help but hear. A voyeuristic digging into his past lead by some celebrity news holo lead to whispers from his own clones and senators. 

The unspoken knowns of Anakin that were in the Jedi Order were suddenly very spoken knowns everyone in the Republic knew. 

He wasn’t some hutt’s pet anymore. But people couldn’t get that idea out of their heads. They didn’t see it as horrific however— at least, there were _far too_ many people that thought that. Many saw his past as something that was _desirable_ in someone. They enjoyed the idea of him being a slave. Hand crafted pictures of it then awed at them— even tried to _show_ them to him. 

Anakin thought it was disgusting. 

It felt unraveling. 

People— who he’s never spoken to before— would approach him in the senate and talk to him— say things to him about subjects he wished he would never think about again, and he couldn’t do anything about it. Not without making the Jedi look bad— not without being reprimanded for his _unprofessional_ behavior. He couldn’t publicly be mean to some random senator simply for speaking. 

And then he had started thinking. 

_Would he be considered special from people outside the Jedi Order of he wasn’t so young— if he wasn’t seen as being so pretty?_

Anakin Skywalker didn’t know anymore.

What he did know was this: 

If anyone ever knew he and Padmé were married, it was not just him that would suffer the consequences. Padmé would lose her senate seat, her credibility, her life’s work— not just because having a serious affair with a Jedi wasn’t allowed in the Jedi’s rules. But because people got _jealous_ over any woman seen even standing next to him. That, or they made whoever was next to him a part of their fantasy about him.

Anakin would not let Padmé become other people’s fantasy. 

* * *

Darth Vader was a bit different.

He was a symbol for the Empire. He was designed to be that. He was a mysterious figure that no one knew anything about that simply came into existence the moment the Empire did. 

Vader heard nothing else said about himself.

There was no point in time where he looked for that sort of thing. People _generally_ feared him too much to approach him— the new holonet was heavily controlled, and no holo news source ever said anything about any part of the Empire that wasn’t approved beforehand. 

When people did approach him, Vader did not have to play pacifist with them— he could throw individuals aside with the force or tell them to _kriff off_ if he wanted. Those moments implied what the upper class imperials thought of him, but it was not nearly as much as a hindrance as it had once been to his life.

Nothing ever truly weighed on his mind as it one did. 

The only time he _heard_ things about himself were from Moffs complaining about his brash behavior. That was quite fine by him. He would rather be seen by those he fought with as this abrasive rash thing then some shining shell of a person or some immature kid that wasn’t old enough to know what he was doing.

This anonymity of his origin was freeing. 

At twenty three Darth Vader was _actually_ respected— _feared—_ by people. 

It did not exactly feel good to be feared, but it felt _better_ than what people thought of him before. 

Until there was this nurse.

To him she was just simply another medical personnel he wished he didn’t have to see. He only saw her in short passing, and paid her no mind— nearly every interaction he ever had with her quickly slipped out of his memory.

There were only three times Vader remembered her. 

_First_. She had accidentally— or at least Vader had _thought_ it was accidental at the time— barged into one of his medical exams. 

In that moment Vader took his anger out on the doctor— usually he avoided going after subordinates. Vader thought that man had been the one to blame for his nurse’s behavior. For not making sure his personal knew what they should be doing and when. For opening a door to the outside hallway in the beginning of a medical treatment when the two of them were supposed to be safely locked behind that door from prying eyes.

At the time he did not even consider that may have been the will of the nurse and not a fault of the doctor. 

The doctor he did let live, Vader didn’t care to deal with what came from needing a new medical team. Mostly he simply wished that all this could be done by droids. Droids were never sloppy. 

Quickly he moved on from that moment. Not forgotten, but not important. 

_Second_ . She was too hands on for his tastes. It gave him a weird feeling when his doctor had been a bit late, and she did the beginning preparations as to not keep him waiting. He had not been stripped of his armor— _not yet—_ he wasn’t exactly exposed in any manner, but he still was not a fan of her needless touches as she went on with setting up what eventually _would be_ the removal of his armor.

He felt through the force, her deep admiration and love for him. Because of that he figured whatever she was doing couldn’t possibly be harmful. Certainly she was no rebel spy or assassin. There was no sense of worry or anger in her mind.

It still felt strange. 

_Her Caresses of the armor that served him as a second skin—_

They almost felt violating— If such a thing could even occur without skin contact. 

But the doctor had arrived soon, and the nurse was forced to leave before Darth Vader had been striped to show any real vulnerability of his body. 

Vader was not quite sure what he would have done if she had moved onto that step— if his doctor had been a few more minutes late.

Nothing, probably. She was not a threat to him— she was not exactly incompetent at her job even if some of the things she did were needless. 

Things simply felt _off_ with her when she treated him. 

_Third._ That day the nurse had approached Vader, the last time she ever saw him. The last day she ever lived. 

For Lord Vader, he has simply been seated in his meditation chamber, having left a medical treatment— the removal of shrapnel— early. 

At first, when he sensed her presence outside that chamber, he thought it had been the doctor who sent her to finish seeing to him. Higher ranking officers often preferred to send their underlings to do their more risky dealings with Vader, in order to try and avoid taking his anger head on. 

Because Darth Vader figured that is what she had been there for, he opened himself to her— _Without_ bothering to have put his mask back on, Vader opened his meditation chamber to her. She was supposed to be his nurse after all. Although he did not care for being seen out of his armor— that was technically a part of her job. Even if his current doctor seemed to take to sending his nurses away whenever that occasion arose. Likely to attempt to curb any potential angry outbursts on his part— he always felt that Doctor’s potent fear towards him. 

He had been wrong about why she was here. 

Shockingly wrong. 

After he opened his meditation chamber, she told him:

“You’re _beautiful_.” 

As she encroached into his personal space, stepping up to less than a few feet from where he sat.

“And now that I’ve finally seen you... the real you. Now that I know the man you don’t have to be alone.” 

The smile she gave him was akin to a predator looking down on their prey. Vader looked at her through the corner of his eye as she leaned into the meditation chamber itself.

“I’m yours. Now and forever.”

His first thought was— _What? Were you not sent here by my doctor?_ Then— _I don’t even know you._

Darth Vader did not know what to do. His mind was too scattered for this to be immediately understood. He still _hurt_ from the shrapnel wounds that had yet to be completely fixed and apparently she was not here to help that problem. 

_Then_. Vader thought— _Oh, it was another one of those obsessive creatures_.

Almost had he forgotten they existed. 

He listened to a part of what she said, only because he was shocked by all of this. The suddenness, the boldness, the overwhelming feelings of desire she held for him. 

Besides a passing face, Vader had no idea who she was. She did not know him, he did not know her— it would be ridiculous to ever think that. 

Darth Vader killed her, of course. 

Still, there was this undoing feeling as being seen as something he was not. Of being an object of others obsession and _lust_. Vader had thought he left behind those types of things years ago. All of it appeared however to be an inescapable reality of simply being well known. Because lust is not love, and there can be no love without understanding. 

_The real him,_ she said. What was that supposed to even mean? He wondered. Did the exposure of his face make that woman think he was showing her some type of vulnerability— something just for her— a wordless return of feelings _,_ and not something he would allow any of his medical team to see because that was quite literally their job? How full of herself, how unaware.

 _Beautiful,_ she called him. Vader did not think he was, but the mention of his looks felt degrading even if she had intended it to be anything but— because once he had been beautiful, and that is all anyone like her had ever thought of him.

 _I'm yours,_ she declared. He did not have anyone. He would never call someone his _own_ because people should not be owned.

He was not some _thing_ for people to make into their fantasy. Darth Vader was a person whose life would not be dictated by how others saw him, even of most of the time he was a weapon. Being a weapon was still better than being some plaything.

She was garbage. Just like the rest of everyone that voyeuristically dug into his life— _to Anakin’s life_ — he mentally corrected. 

Ultimately, it’s destructive.

These countless parasocial relationships.

Inherently they are skewed. Shallow. Selfish.

Darth Vader— he can never be Anakin Skywalker— because that idea of the Hero With No Fear was never a person to begin with. The way other people had seen him, just an idea or a symbol. Anakin had never been truly him either.

He should have killed her, Vader thought _,_ when she first touched him and it felt _off_. 


End file.
